


Don't look at me (I'll do you justice)

by RossKL



Series: Tony Stark Bingo [3]
Category: Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel Noir
Genre: Artist Steve Rogers, Body Worship, Costume Parties & Masquerades, First Meetings, Fluff, Hero Worship, M/M, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-27
Updated: 2019-09-27
Packaged: 2020-10-29 09:45:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20794625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RossKL/pseuds/RossKL
Summary: Tony and Steve meet at a masquerade ball. They hit it off.Late fill to TS Bingo. Square T5 - Carnival.





	Don't look at me (I'll do you justice)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you [Nigmuff](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nigmuff/pseuds/Nigmuff) and [march_hyde](https://archiveofourown.org/users/march_hyde) for beta-ing! Special, special thank you to my dear friend [Cullenlovesmen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/handersmyheart/pseuds/cullenlovesmen) for the support, all the help and the beta-ing too. <3
> 
> I was kind to them because I am That Soft™, so - Tony has just a weak heart and not the implant he has in Iron Man Noir, and I let Steve outgrow most of his illnesses. (He's still shorter than Tony, though.)

A slight nudge on the right side of his mask, and Tony is ready to go.

He looks in the mirror one last time. The blue of his eyes is the only color on his figure tonight. His whole body is covered in black: suit, jacket, shoes, gloves and mask all match the black of his hair.

The mask is heavy on the right side because of the black rose and long feathers embellishing that side. Jan insisted on trying out some of her new designs at the masquerade ball tonight. That’s why Tony has a rigid mask with elaborate lace patterns, and polished, shiny quartz circling the opening for the eyes. The petals of the rose are made of tulle and the center is mostly satin, and behind the flower, three long feathers stand out and curve slightly near the end.

Jan told him that the only reason people would look twice at his mask was going to be because of its beauty, and not because it is worn by a man.

Looking at his reflection in the mirror, Tony agrees.

Not that he ever doubted Jan, but the final result is, indeed, a work of art. Something worth of being looked at twice. It’s a lovely mask.

He tightens the knot behind his head and turns away from the mirror.

***

The room is large and full of masked people.

Jan is trilling next to Pepper and him, and Tony lets the words run as soothing background noise. All around them are people holding their masks up by the stick and swapping them around, clearly to compliment the choice of the mask of the person they are speaking to.

That looks exhausting.

Tony is glad he asked Janet to make him one without a stick.

Additionally, he’s glad his face is not recognizable enough for people to go and talk to him like they would at a normal ball.

Tony and his team’s last mission left him shaken. It’s probably a sign of time passing, but Tony doesn’t want to interact with people all that much, tonight. Anyone paying attention to his figure would notice it’s him anyway – even if only for the people he’s with – but at least it doesn’t feel like he’s got a luminous sign with his name on, pointing at him.

He holds on tight to the semblance of anonymity the mask gives him.

Besides, anonymity is sort of the point of a masquerade ball.

The sound of laughter bring Tony back to the people in front of him. Jan and Pepper are both looking at him as their hilarity dies down.

“What did I miss?” Tony asks, smiling. Their good mood is contagious.

“Oh, welcome back to Earth,” Pepper says.

“Ms. Potts here was making me notice how the crystals make the blue of your eyes stand out and your glare all the more obvious,” Jan says, still laughing a little.

“I’m not glaring,” Tony says, automatic. “I’m merely pitying every person in this room who has to keep their mask up all the time,” he finishes, looking pointedly at Jan’s own mask on a stick.

“It’s much more fashionable,” Jan replies. “I had the best time designing mine and Miss Potts’ one. You just love to be the eccentric, marvelous Tony Stark.” Her words are without malice, and Tony laughs.

“You got me,” Tony says with mirth. Then he sobers up. “Almost everyone here has masks on sticks. Where’s the point of a masquerade ball, if everyone can clearly see who they’re speaking to?”

“What is life without a bit of mystery in it, right?” Pepper asks, rhetorically. Tony knows she means it.

He smiles at her, then dips his head, excusing himself from the ladies as he sees two men approaching them.

It’s time to leave them to enjoy the evening.

***

Tony spends the next half hour roaming the room and avoiding people.

The mask helps a little, but being the owner and protagonist of _Marvels: A magazine of Men’s Adventure_ has its downs, as people recognize his figure even though he’s almost completely covered in black. Besides, it’s not like anyone else in the room has scars on their face like he does. He’s sure people can recognize him just for those.

He has to mingle, but only a little. It’s not as bad as he figured the evening would go.

“Mr. Stark,” a voice calls behind him.

Tony stifles a sigh, before turning back.

The man in front of him is smaller than him, has blonde hair, and is holding a deep blue mask in front of his azure eyes— Tony doesn’t recognize him.

The man smiles. “For someone who wants to hide, you definitely stand out,” he says.

Probably due to the weariness dragging him, a tiny part of Tony feels weird being called out by a complete stranger.

(Tony hopes he is a stranger. The contrary would be quite embarrassing.)

A much bigger part of him, though, is genuinely curious. “Say, gentleman, what is it that you mean?” he asks the man, returning the smile with an ease he thought had abandoned him, at least for the evening.

The smile on the other man’s face widens just a little, and Tony feels an muted, almost familiar flutter in his stomach. _He has such a nice smile_. “I’m afraid I did let my work get the better of me just there. It’s second nature, I guess – nevertheless, I am sorry.” The man bites his lips. Tony doesn’t stare. “I am an artist. I observe things, and I couldn’t help but notice that…” He trails off. He blinks his eyes up to him, and Tony notices the man’s eyes are at the exact same level as his mouth.

Were Tony a younger man and had any naivete left in him, he would have blushed. The world showed him so many beauties, but it took quite a few things in return. Naivete is one of them.

So, instead, he just loses some tension from his shoulders. “You couldn’t help but notice…?” he asks, calm.

The man brings his left hand to the back of his neck and smiles, sheepish. “That you’ve been trying to avoid large groups of people, or tried to stay by the walls the whole time… But even your mask alone is telling enough, tied to your head so people aren’t encouraged to start conversations very easily.” He concludes with a shrug. “You struck me as someone who prefers to be left alone.”

Tony is impressed.

The man must have been observing him for a long time. It’s nothing short of flattering. He wonders how old the man is – his earnestness and gentle features reminds him of past years, of his energy and innocence right before he decided he wanted to live his life going on adventures, in search for mysteries.

“I mean, if even your lady has left you alone…” The man smiles a little.

Tony is a little jealous of his innocence, in a way that makes him well-disposed towards him. He smiles a little. “You’re quite right, although there is no lady in sight for me.” He deliberately pauses. He doesn’t ask the man why he came and talked to him if he thought Tony wanted to be alone. He just waits a couple of seconds, in which he figures the man must be asking himself that very question.

The man looks like he’s embarrassed enough to leave him be, but Tony says before he has the chance to talk, “Then what is it that makes me stand out?”

The man bites his lip. To his surprise, Tony finds that he wouldn’t mind if they talked a little bit more.

“It’s the total blackness of your look,” the man decides to say in the end. “I mean, the only color on you is the blue of your eyes. Not that it’s a bad thing—” he stops. Tony could swear the man’s cheeks just colored a little. “I just mean – if you want to look inconspicuous, you should aim for colors that make you blend in. Like a chameleon. Total black will only make you stand out more.” He pauses a second, then continues. “It does make for a breathtaking sight on you, though,” he adds quietly.

The flutter in his stomach comes back stronger than before, and this time Tony gets very close to blushing.

The man keeps holding the mask very close to his eyes. Despite his earlier words, Tony wishes he would lower it. He’s fairly certain the man is gorgeous – the features of his face are sharp and kind at the same time – and he has a clear view of his beautiful eyes, but… Tony wishes he could see _all_ of him. He wishes he could have him under himself, those gorgeous eyes staring up at him as he takes in every detail of his body. He wishes to kiss him, and it’s a fierce urge, like nothing he’s felt before, and Tony is left breathless for a moment.

Tony wishes he could see his face, at least.

“Does it?” Tony asks. He tries not to smile, but he’s sure his eyes are telling enough.

The other man’s cheeks color just a tad more. Tony is enthralled. “Yes, it really does.” The man’s words are quieter than before. He doesn’t lower his gaze after he speaks, so Tony doesn’t either.

They look into each other’s eyes without saying a word for a long time. Tony is certain he’s never felt this strong of an impulse to take someone to his private quarters before. He would trade a few of his treasures to just ask him if he would come with him to his rooms, risks be damned.

“Thank you. I am flattered.” Tony smiles. “Your mask elegantly suits your figure, as well. It accentuates the color of your eyes,” he says. He notices the man loses some of the nervousness. “Would you be so kind as to tell me your name?” Tony asks – because this, he can do. This is safe.

The man lifts his chin up as he replies. “Steve Rogers,” he says, his eyes glinting with something stronger than admiration.

Tony smiles what he hopes is his most charming smile. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Rogers,” he says. He holds out his hand. Tony doesn’t know him— he should really start paying more attention to art. Jan and Pepper would be delighted, too.

Steve takes the mask in his left hand – damn, Tony had _hoped_ – and shakes Tony’s hand, smiling brightly.

The grip is nice and strong, even though Steve’s hands are much more delicate than Tony’s calloused ones.

Tony would love to feel those hands on his body.

He can’t shake the mental image out of his head as they hold on for longer than strictly necessary. Tony’s thumb caresses Steve’s slim wrist a couple of times, before he lets go.

“You have nice hands,” Tony says. It’s all he can do not to say what he wants to say.

“You have a nice mansion,” Steve replies without missing a beat, chin up and red on his cheeks.

Tony knows what that means. He knows what _he_ would mean with those words.

He searches Steve’s eyes for any clue that he’s reading the situation wrong, but he only finds admiration and intensity.

“Would you like me to give you a tour?” Tony asks, voice low. His heart is beating a little faster than usual because he never does this, much less with strangers who could punch him or report him, and it’s heady and Tony _wants_.

This time he makes sure Steve doesn’t miss the innuendo behind the hushed words and heated gaze.

Steve doesn’t. “I would love to.”

***

Tony’s breathing is still irregular when Steve lifts himself on his elbows and looks at him.

Tony tilts his head and watches him in return, and his breath catches yet again.

_The first thing Tony did when the door closed behind them was take the mask from Steve’s hands and put it aside. A long moment of silence filled the room as he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the other man’s face, his eyes, his cheekbones, his jaw, his lips. He barely registered as Steve got close and untied the knot behind his head to free him of his mask._

_He hadn’t been able to stop looking at Steve’s face for the most part of the time they spent together. He was mesmerized, and he was breathless, and he wanted— he _wants_ nothing more than to look at him, and keep looking at him, whenever he wants._

It’s no different now, after the kisses, after the caresses, after the sighs and the closeness of their bodies. It’s only been one hour, maybe even less, since they first kissed and things spiraled down in a vortex of heat and passion, but Tony is just as breathless as he was when he first brought Steve in his room.

He can still taste him in his mouth.

Tony notices how Steve’s eyes trace his face, his neck, his torso, and stop with disapproval where the sheets cover the rest of his body.

Tony feels a little self-conscious – and it’s irrational, especially after the last hour and all the kisses and touches and grasps, but he almost wants to cover his body further with the sheets. The years and the adventures took their toll on him, and Steve’s gaze on his scarred body makes him want to hide.

Tony slides his hand in the back of Steve’s head and brings him down for a kiss. He can bear to stop looking into those beautiful, clear eyes only in return for the taste of him, of his lips, of his tongue. It’s a good exchange.

Steve moans into his mouth. The sound goes straight towards Tony’s lower body, and he curses himself for not being as young anymore. He bites Steve’s lip in reply, and this elicits another moan. Tony is in trouble; he’s addicted to those sounds and those lips, and he doesn’t want them to stop.

Tony brings his other hand to stroke Steve’s back as he climbs on top of Tony and kisses him within an inch of his life. Tony shudders and tightens his hold on Steve’s hair, his own body oversensitive and responsive. He bites back a whimper as Steve’s mouth moves onto his neck and starts kissing him there, alternating small licks and pecks that make Tony shiver and want even more.

“Steve,” he protests weakly. He makes no attempts at effectively stopping him, though, so Steve doesn’t stop: his mouth moves from his neck to the hollow of his neck, to each clavicle, and he kisses his way down, and Tony whimpers. “You’re a menace.”

Steve smiles at that. The only reply he gives is rubbing his nose in Tony’s stomach, and Tony promptly laughs at that, shivering from the tickling sensation. He tries to shove him off, but Steve has his whole body as leverage, and the battle is lost for Tony as he fails to stop giggling.

“Stop it,” Tony breathes. Steve smiles from under him and gently eases down the teasing. He places feather-like kisses on Tony’s stomach, eliciting a breathless moan from the man underneath him every time. Tony’s hand comes up and tangles briefly in Steve’s hair, stroking gently, urging him upwards. The heat from before seems to have left in favor of softer, quieter feelings.

Feelings. _God_. They have only known each other for a couple of hours, and Tony is already thinking about _feelings_. He doesn’t know much about the man, doesn’t know if he will ever see him again, hell, he doesn’t even know if he will keep the secret of their encounter. And by the way, he should really ask him to keep quiet—

“Nobody has ever done justice to this body,” Steve whispers quietly without looking up, silencing every one of Tony’s wandering thoughts.

The room is quiet for several seconds, only the sounds of their soft breathing and Steve’s small kisses on his body breaking the silence. The noise from downstairs doesn’t reach them, the sounds from outside are muffled by the closed windows, and the room feels peaceful, unlike most of Tony’s life, but it’s exactly what he needs these days.

He’s afraid Steve is going to hear the beating of his heart.

He feels slightly dizzy, mesmerized by Steve’s look and attitude, and by his gentleness and care. He has never been in this situation before, as _he_ would be the one caressing and holding gals in his arms, and the scarce times it was a man in his company would be hastened, hushed, and never in a bed.

Now, though… Now, Steve is kissing his body, he’s holding him, and Tony doesn’t know what to say.

He manages to bring Steve up with gentle pushes on the back of Steve’s head, and Tony looks at him in the eyes before leaning up to kiss him. Steve closes his eyes, he’s gentle, and Tony keeps looking at his eyelashes in wonder. Lips against lips and warm, content feelings are Tony’s only focus.

After a couple of seconds, Steve leans back and lies on the bed, facing Tony. He is not quite smiling; his gaze is focused and thoughtful. Tony’s hand comes up to caress Steve’s cheek, because apparently, he can’t keep away from him.

Steve smiles a little. “You know, I’ve always wanted to meet you.” He pauses. He seems meditative for a little. “I had to dream about going on adventures with you, being your best man in the field. I was a very sick kid… Up until three years ago, I used to spend a lot of time in bed. My best friend Arnie and I would buy issues of Marvels Magazine together, because money was tight. We never missed one,” Steve says. He takes a deep breath as if to steady himself, like it’s him who has to steel himself for those words. Like they’re not touching something deep inside Tony.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Tony says, gentle. His thumb draws another lazy circle on Steve’s cheek, and Steve smiles. He turns around to kiss him briefly on the hand.

“I know. We wanted to. I wanted to,” Steve adds, a little quieter. “I wanted to feel close to you, and that was the only way I could do that. I’d never thought I would be able to meet you, one day, but it was my deepest dream.”

Tony slides his hand in the back of Steve’s neck and squeezes a little. Besides the obvious sentiment Steve’s words made him feel, they also have the effect of making Tony wonder. How did Steve get invited to a masquerade ball, in his own mansion? Who is he? Tony regrets not asking before. Now it would be embarrassing, maybe even rude. Besides, he knows they only have a few more minutes, because at some point Steve has to go back before the ball ends.

“And yet, here you are, with me,” Tony resolves to say.

Steve’s eyes sparkle at that. “Here I am,” he repeats. “One day, Arnie brought a newspaper. I was shivering because of the fever, and I remember the newspaper was wet, and I remember that Arnie was worried the sogginess would make me feel worse.” Steve smiles ruefully. He lowers his gaze for a couple of seconds, and Tony sympathizes. He can’t imagine being bound to a bed, not when the world is full of mysteries and marvels like it is.

Then Steve speaks again. “But he brought me the paper anyway, because right in the first page, right in the middle, there was a photograph of you. That was the first picture of you I had ever seen. I remember every detail… I remember your shirt, your mussed hair, I remember your smile. It was blinding, slightly cocky, but warm. I remember your eyes. God, your eyes are beautiful. No one has ever managed to get them quite right.”

Tony can’t focus for a moment, his heart skipping a beat, then another. He doesn’t have the strongest heart, alas, but he’s never been affected like this by loving words before. Again, he doesn’t know what to do.

He _always_ knows what to do.

Tony isn’t used to this.

“I remember the rain had caused the picture to blur a little. I was so fascinated by those unintentional shadows, that I had to pick up a charcoal and a sheet of paper. That was the first time I drew something. Of course it was going to be you,” Steve adds quietly. His eyes are lost for one moment, then he catches Tony’s eyes in his and continues. “I drew over and over again, and then one more time. I tried to replicate the exact picture, down to the faintest shadow. It took me two days, but I did it. I was so excited, I started trying different techniques, playing with the shadows… I think I still have the first page of that newspaper.”

Steve stops stalking and smiles shyly, curling up a little on himself.

“This is my job, now. I am an artist. You inspired me to do yet another thing, in my life.” Steve can’t stop smiling. “I owe you so much.”

In the silence of the room, Tony can almost hear the beating of his own heart.

Tony knew he had fans, but he never fully understood before. “Wow,” he whispers. “I wish I could see those drawings you made. I wish I could see all of your works, actually.” It’s Steve’s turn to try and hide from him, so Tony hastens to add, “I really do.” He wonders if he would be able to know what Steve was feeling, just by looking at his drawings.

Thinking about art, something else crosses his mind. “Oh!” He exclaims. Steve looks a little startled, by the sudden burst of energy. “I just remembered! We were searching for a new cartoonist, the last time I talked with Pepper. Couldn’t have been more than two weeks ago… We are probably still looking.” Tony feels like he just defeated the most insurmountable obstacle and is now holding in his hands the latest artifact he spent over a month looking for. “You should bring your portfolio to Marvels headquarters. I can put in a good word for you,” he says, smiling encouragingly.

He already feels lighter with hope at the prospect of seeing Steve again.

“That won’t be necessary,” Steve says. Tony doesn’t have the time to feel his hope dim, because Steve says, “I already did that. Apparently, I now have a job at _Marvels: A Magazine of Men’s Adventure_.” He beams at him.

Tony stares at him, an involuntary smile spreading across his face. “You’d better be serious, mister,” he says.

Steve’s smile is getting wider by the second. “One hundred percent serious. I wouldn’t lie about this— not when it has been one of my biggest dreams for years.”

That’s why he participated at the ball, Tony figures: every member of his magazine receives an invitation.

Tony tangles one hand in Steve’s hair and kisses him. For a second or ten, the only sounds in the room are their breathing and the wet brushes of lips on lips. The new knowledge color their kiss with hope and warmth, the melancholy of before that Tony hadn’t realized he was feeling replaced easily, like the night turning into a day.

All too soon, Steve pulls away. “I take it you don’t hate this news?” Steve asks.

“That wouldn’t be the word I’d use, no,” Tony replies, smiling. “Though I am offended I didn’t know this. How did I not know this? I’ll have words with Pepper,” he mumbles.

He doesn’t really blame Pepper for not telling him – he never really asked, and it’s not like he ever expressed much interest in cartoonists, not even when prompted.

To be fair, he doesn’t usually take unknown men to his quarters, either.

“Don’t blame her,” Steve says, frowning a little. Tony finds it adorable. “It wasn’t Miss Pott’s fault. I believe Miss Van Dyne wanted to know who the new cartoonist would be, so Miss Potts introduced me to her. And broke the news to me, as well. I wasn’t supposed to know until next week. I should have suspected by the invitation to the ball, though.” Steve bites his lower lip and blushes again. “That’s why I decided to speak to you. I was going to introduce myself. Miss Potts said you would be delighted.”

Tony laughs. What a series of fortunate events, that brought them together! First, he didn’t want to go to his own ball, and it took Jan’s best efforts to convince him. Then she and Pepper left him alone, and then Jan’s curiosity made Pepper tell Steve, and effectively send him his way.

It almost feels like fate. If fate has the name of his lovely friends.

Tony is going to buy both ladies a fruit basket. A fruit basket and flowers. He feels very generous.

“I’m sorry I didn’t let you introduce yourself properly,” Tony says.

“Are you?” Steve asks with mirth. It’s a fair question.

He knows the answer anyway, Tony figures.

“Not really,” Tony says, smirking. “I like where it lead us. Though I have to say, I don’t quite do this every time I meet someone… Interesting.” At that, Steve’s eyes flash with something Tony can’t quite place. Huh. “Besides, I was really aiming for inconspicuous, tonight.” He adds, sheepish.

Steve smiles. “I could see that. It was painful to watch,” he says, smirking. Tony makes a mock-offended face, and Steve laughs. “In the best way,” he adds. “When I said the total blackness made you stand out, I meant it.”

Tony’s cheeks get warm. God, _that_ he never does. It’s like being an adolescent all over again. “I remember. It was the very first thing you told me,” Tony says.

Steve’s cheeks mirrors Tony’s and he covers his face, making a slightly painful sound. “That was quite inappropriate of me, wasn’t it,” he says, not really a question. His voice is muffled by the hands, but Tony hears his embarrassment anyway.

“Not really,” Tony says. Steve makes a vague noise, but doesn’t lower his hands. “It was original. Among the people downstairs, nobody surprised me once, tonight. Sure, they probably scared me, made me jump a little,” and isn’t that a surprise, how relaxed he feels now? “but I never felt more inclined to start a conversation than with you. Not for a long time, actually.”

At that, Steve lowers his hands. His cheeks are not entirely back to normal, but he seems less embarrassed, at least. “I used to think that your cartoonists slacked. Not that it was my place to tell,” Steve hastens to add. His cheeks color a little more. “But the way they drew you… It wasn’t close to the real you, the one in the photographs. Every time I had a copy of Marvels in my hand after seeing you on that newspaper, I felt annoyed, like it was somehow a personal insult that they never got you right. They _never_ got you right.” Steve pauses a little, looking at him like he is the most beautiful piece of art. “But now, now I think that – that nothing, that no one, can ever truly do you justice. It’s impossible. You’re so much more than your photographs,” he finishes with a rueful smile.

Tony’s heart is wild in his chest. He doesn’t know how to reply to that. Courtesy flattery, he can deal with. Enthusiastic fans, he can handle. But heartfelt compliments, he’s never learned how to feel about those.

“I am going to try, though,” Steve continues. His eyes are determined as he speaks. “I am going to keep trying, again and again, until I manage to capture at least a spark of the very essence of you, and put it on paper. I’m going to do you justice.”

Eyes sparkling, his words are so passionate that Tony feels his heart skip another beat.

This man will probably be the death of him.

Better to make every second count.

“I’m thinking of bringing you with me, on adventures,” Tony says. He’s never done it before – only his friends and the chronicler of Marvels would join him. Cartoonists only got the story from the chronicler, and then they would illustrate it based solely on the words.

Steve, though… Tony has a positive feeling about it. Steve would love the visuals, he would definitely benefit from it. And it’s not like he would be a bother, for Tony; quite the contrary, actually. Besides…

He notices Steve’s eyes widen in surprise and joy, and before he can say anything, Tony continues, “That has always been a dream of yours, hasn’t it?”

“The dream of my life,” Steve says. There’s so much cautious wonder and happiness in those words that Tony is flooded with positive energy and can do nothing but smile in reply. “Are you serious?” Steve asks, incredulous, sitting up on the bed. “Would you really take me on adventures with you?”

“The magazine is mine,” Tony says, mirroring Steve’s position and sitting up with him. “Of course I would. If you want to.”

Tony barely has time to register the burst of happiness on Steve’s face, before he’s on him, kissing him within an inch of his life.

God, but Tony wants to do more.

“Thank you!” Steve exclaims, when they separate. He is positively glowing. Tony’s cheeks hurt from the big smile splitting his face. “Of course I want to! Thank you so much! That would be lovely! You won’t regret it, I promise!” Steve says, and Tony laughs at the sheer enthusiasm of the man in front of him.

“I am doing it for solely selfish reasons, just so you know,” Tony says, still grinning, but looking down and up Steve’s body, appreciatively. He has less muscles than Tony, but Tony has always been a sucker for a lean build.

Steve’s eyes sparkle with something. “Oh, I know you are.” He tries to put innuendo in the words, but he’s just too happy to do a great job. The words are light, and the attempt has Tony laughing, with Steve following him after half a second.

“Gosh, I should really go,” Steve says when the laughter slow, sighing.

Tony nods. “Yeah, that’s probably for the best.”

He doesn’t want him to go. He has a feeling Steve doesn’t want to go, either.

But he can’t really stay. Not on evenings like this – when the mansion is brimming with people, and sooner or later someone is going to notice Steve’s absence.

On other nights, though… Tony lets himself hope. “This doesn’t have to be the last time we do this,” he says, quieter than before. He hopes Steve realizes the seriousness of his tone.

Steve sobers up at that, too. He watches him with careful eyes, then bites his lips. “I don’t want to be a bother.”

How could Steve still think that? “No bother at all,” Tony says honestly. He smiles.

Steve smiles too, and relaxes minutely. “Good. That would be swell, then.”

Tony kisses him in reply.

The future is going to be gay.

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't help the pun at the end, please don't kill me! :D Let me know if you liked it!


End file.
